Make Damn Sure
by Yuthanasia
Summary: I just want to bring you down so badly in the worst way. Draco Malfoy's out of jail and his grandfather is a king? Which makes Draco a prince? And now Hermione's going to have to marry him? Problems ensue. A little angsty fluff.


_You've got this new head filled up with smoke  
I got my veins all tangled close  
to the jukebox bars you frequent  
the safest place to hide  
a long night spent with your most obvious weakness  
you start shaking at the thought  
you are everything I want  
cause you are everything I'm not_

"Lovely." Hermione Granger nodded regally, a pleasant smile stitched onto her face.

"Lovely."

Harry rubbed his face tiredly and peered at her through his fingers. Next to him, Ron was gripping the arms of the chair he was sitting on tightly. The tense air contrasted sharply with Hermione's still smiling face, and she was still nodding. The three were currently Hermione's flat, seated around her kitchen table. _The Daily Prophet_ was splayed on the tabletop and Draco Malfoy's face, including several other graduated Slytherins, was leering up towards the ceiling.

"You don't have to do it, Hermione…" Harry's voice trailed off miserably. At that, Ron stood up quickly, his face murderous. "I'm gonna rip that Hogwarts Hat to ten million bloody pieces." He said, his voice low and dangerous.

Hermione's smiling mask cracked a little.

"Let me get this straight," she said, her voice steely, "Draco Malfoy, who has just gotten out of prison, is now found with royal blood and in an act to prevent something like the Voldemort War from happening again…" Here she paused and with a sharp intake of breath, she belted out, "I HAVE TO HAVE HIS BABIES?!"

Ron tripped over a chair leg and Harry fell off his. They were both spluttering and their faces were flushed – but not as much as Hermione's. She was breathing loud and fast now, her face a bright crimson. Just after her sudden outburst, Hermione burst into loud and sloppy tears.

The two men on the floor looked at each other in alarm and panic. It wasn't like her to be sentimental and cry like… a girl. Ron accidentally voiced this out loud and found he had to duck to avoid a china plate from smashing into his face. Hermione felt such a surge of miserable joy at chucking things around that she continued to, her arms groping the sink for more plates. Harry ducked underneath the table and found it equally as dangerous since Hermione was kicking up a storm. Literally.

"I JUST WANTED" –crash- "TO BE A TEACHER AT HOGWARTS" –crash- "SETTLE DOWN AND" –crash- "MARRY SOMEONE NICE" –crash- "AND GROW OLD" –crash- "COMFORTABLY!" Ron was weaving in and out of Hermione's target range and after the last punctuated word that was supported with a metal bowl; it soared into the air and ended his luck by smacking into his shoulder.

Harry clung to the table leg, not quite as affected since he had suffered similar tantrums with Dudley but Ron was utterly terrified. As the bowl impacted with Ron's shoulder and he heard him grunt with pain, Harry stood up and roared, "HERMIONE!"

The throwing stopped abruptly and her loud sobs fell into tiny whimpers and snifflings. Walking briskly around the table, he grasped her hands in his and looked intently into her face.

"It's not that bad." Each word was punctuated clearly and as Hermione's whimpers rose in volume, Harry hastily continued.

"He's not that much of a git anymore and you'll have a comfortable life. He'll be rolling in money anyway and all you really need to do is show up at parties with him. You don't even have to…" Here Harry choked and coughed to cover up, "Uh… have… intercourse with him."

Hermione glared. "He's going to want to have an heir won't he?!" She asked furiously, her voice rising an octave higher. Harry winced at this, even in tantrums Hermione was always thinking.

"I'll be driven mad with his bloody house elves and his bloody smirks and his bloody family and I don't want his bloody money!"

On the floor, Ron was clutching his injured shoulder and looked at Hermione open-mouthed with awe. "Hey she sounds just like me!"

Harry shot him a look and turned back to Hermione. "It's for Dumbledore." He said, and Hermione winced, tears now coursing down her creamy cheeks for a whole other reason. "You know how he was with House unity… and how the Hat always talked about the houses sticking together… Plus Malfoy's grandfather won't let him marry any other muggle-born. You're the most famous female in the wizarding world besides me and Ron."

"Ron and I," Hermione muttered and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "What will my parents say, Harry? What about my career, my dreams? The Ministry has me working almost non-stop trying figure out potions to erase the Dark Mark and to heal all the casualties. I can't let that go."

Harry cleared his throat. "Well… It seems as though Draco's grandfather has already thought everything through. He's put Draco as your lab partner."

Hermione stared at him. "What?" She whispered, her hands now gripping his in a viselike grip. Harry winced. "When? When will I have to start to be his slave?"

"Now, apparently." A deep voice filled the room and Hermione's grip on Harry's hand increased.

"Owowow! HERMIONE!" She didn't let go; her attention was fully on the speaker.

Draco Malfoy stepped out of _her_ fireplace onto _her_ carpet and making a mess in _her_ house.

"I think you two should leave." He said, looking pointedly at the splayed Ron on the floor and the half-bent Harry in pain. They took one look at Hermione and scurried from the kitchen into the bathroom.

As soon as the door clicked close, Draco sighed and pulled up a chair. "Do you mind?" He asked.

"Yes."

Draco sat.

Hermione growled.

Silence filled the room.

Draco peered at the floor, leaned over his chair, and carefully picked a broken piece of china. Idly twirling it in his long fingers, Draco asked, "So I take it you took the news well?"

Hermione snorted and Draco frowned at her. "That's going to have to be the last time you do that. I won't tolerate you being so disgusting in public."

She glared at him. Her emotions were already heightened. Things were already going bad at home, at work, and she couldn't go into the supermarket like she used to. This marriage proposal was the last straw.

"I don't want to marry you. I _hate_ you."

He didn't even blink.

She tried again. "I wouldn't marry you even if you were the last male on earth who still has normal testicles because of course, we all know we're going to die of radiation and the world is going to be overrun with donkey-apes anyway."

Back in the bathroom, with their ears pressed against the door, Ron mouthed to Harry, '_That's pretty original._'

Draco stared at the plate shard, catching the light with it. Hermione could feel her stronghold swaying. She always liked shiny things.

The silence returned.

Draco rubbed his forehead tiredly and Hermione took the time to look him over. His white blond hair was quite unlike his father's long mane. It was cut short and covered his head with thin strands. The look really suited him, actually. He had strong, angular features with gray-blue piercing eyes and a sharp, high nose. She held her breath as she allowed her gaze to travel down those high cheekbones to his full and – dare she say? – sensuous mouth. Bile rose in her throat. This was the man that bullied her and treated her like dirt because of her blood. Because of something that she couldn't control. He, nor did anybody, had no idea how many times he had caused her to spurt into tears. Every time she saw him, she felt miserable. He always went out of his way to make her life a living hell and she always felt powerless and pathetic in their verbal spats.

She had fallen for him. Fallen down a steep mountain into a dark abyss and she had just clambered out, shaken, dirty, but determined to get on with her life. She avoided him in their last year and threw herself into The Order Of The Phoenix's work. Hermione gathered all of the hurt, the misery, the regret of wasted emotion into an ironbound determination to put the Death Eaters into Azkaban and to bring down Voldemort. It was a hard and terrible battle, and many peoples' lives were taken. Other families were ruined because of the victims and the horrifying wounds curses caused, both psychologically and physically. Hermione had taken one look at the battlefield and promised herself to help them as much as she could. She would temporarily abandon all pretense of teaching and focus all of her knowledge and expertise into restoring those families.

The morning she read _The Daily Prophet_'s news of Draco Malfoy being put behind bars, she pushed it away with shaking hands. He was gone now. He was away. He couldn't hurt her anymore.

And now this. 

'_I can't do this._' She thought desperately, _'I'm not even ready to look at him anymore. How can I live with him?'_

"I can't do this," She repeated out loud. Staring fixedly out kitchen sink window, Hermione refused to look at him. She heard Draco sigh and the clink of him putting the shard down.

"Granger," He drawled, fingers tapping the table. "It's not as if I'm leaping with joy over this either. My grandfather is not a person to say no to."

"Well that's bad for his character." Hermione sniffed.

Draco switched tactics. "You look terrible. Your face is all splotchy." He clicked his tongue in disparagement. "I guess they were right in saying that all women are not beautiful criers."

Hermione's lips tightened as she stared resolutely at the window.

His eyes narrowed. Draco pushed his chair out and walked to where Hermione was sitting. She looked pointedly away. He leaned down and angled his face so that his lips were barely touching her earlobe. She grimaced and tried to move away but his hands gripped her shoulders.

"I _loathe_ you." He breathed, "I don't want to have anything to do with you. Just bear with me for three years and we'll divorce and that's the end. I won't have an heir by you and my grandfather cannot do anything about it. Expect to swim in riches and to be photographed wherever you go." Draco's voice was lowered into a hiss and his minty breath blew into Hermione's nostrils. She couldn't look at him.

"Don't expect me to be kind to you. Don't expect me to pity you. I will not soil myself with your dirty blood."

Hermione's body was frozen. She could feel a pressure in her chest and it kept her from breathing. She was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to give a retort. His cold words chipped away the barrier she had built to keep herself in and others out.

Draco pulled away and she could hear the rustle of silk as he straightened his clothes. "We're meeting my grandfather tomorrow." He said, his voice retaining its' normal volume and drawl. "I'll pick you up at 7:30 am. Be ready."

With that, he turned around and walked out of the room, his black robes billowing out from behind him.

It was only then that she turned to look at him, fighting to keep the tears back. With a roar, the flames flickered into life and he stepped in. There was a whirling as the ashes twirled in a mini tornado and then he was gone.

The picture in _The Daily Prophet_ laughed.


End file.
